The Heat
by Write0rDie
Summary: Set at the beginning of Season 8 - The Caretaker. The Doctor and Clara find themselves on a desert planet, chained up in the heat. Clara gets more than a tan.
1. Chapter 1

"There's no way out of this. We're gonna die here," Clara said wearily.

"Pass me the vibrocutters."

"They're in my pocket."

"Come on, then, pass it to me," The Doctor snapped.

"In my other jacket. At home," she explained almost embarrassed.

"Why have you got two jackets? Is one of them faulty?" he said with irritation.

"Look, I don't have the vibrocutters. If I had the vibrocutters, I wouldn't be able to pass you the vibrocutters." She lifted her hands reminding him that they were indeed chained. "We're going to starve to death out here," she added in defeat.

"Of course we won't starve. The sand piranhas will get us long before that."

Clara felt the panic rise. '_What the hell is a sand piranha?'_ she thought but was too afraid to ask. "What's the plan?"

"No idea," he replied bluntly. Despite his natural lower body temperature, The Doctor was not exactly comfortable in the heat either and he sounded snappier than usual.

The planet was impossibly hot and they had been chained up now for what seemed like ages. Clara licked her dry lips and closed her eyes. Her limbs felt heavy, like the heat was leaching every last scrap of energy from her body. She felt steady throbbing as a headache took hold.

Clara opened her eyes slowly and saw in front of them the carcass of some large animal that had met its fate long ago. It was nothing but a pile of bones, bleached white by the planet's two suns. Off in the distance, through the heat haze, she saw a mirage in the form of a large shimmering lake.

"Doctor, there's a lake over there."

"Don't be stupid. The whole planet is desert. All the water is deep underground."

"I can see it." She squinted. "There's a ship."

"Ridiculous," he scoffed turning his head towards her. "Has your tiny brain melted or something?"

"I think it's the titanic," she said slurring slightly. She knew it didn't make sense but it felt like a dream where logic and the laws of physics don't need to apply. She continued to stare off into the distance.

"Hello? Gallifrey to Clara." The Doctor seemed to be speaking to her. She turned her head toward the sound of his voice. Stars danced on the edge of her vision.

"Clara, are you listening to me?" He seemed annoyed that she wasn't paying attention. Her ears were ringing now, drowning out his words.

She tried to reply, to tell him something was wrong but she was suddenly short of breath and she realised that she was breathing in short little gasps. The Doctor's face grew concerned as he realised that something was definitely not right with his companion.

Her vision suddenly tilted and then went black. Clara's body went limp but was held mostly upright by the chains around her shoulders.

"Clara!" he yelled leaning towards her, straining the chains that held him.

* * *

"Doctor, where are we?" Clara asked stepping out of the TARDIS onto what looked like a frozen lake.

"Mendenhall Glacier. Thought you'd like to see it before climate change takes hold and the whole thing melts."

"You might have warned me. I would have dressed more appropriately." She shivered and held herself, rubbing her upper arms. Her legs were mostly bare in her little green shorts and the frosty air was biting hard.

"Don't be soft. Come on, come on." He motioned enthusiastically for her to follow him further onto the ice.

The Doctor seemed completely unfazed by the cold and he trotted lightly across the frozen lake towards the foot of the glacier.

She followed reluctantly, being careful not to slip. The Doctor turned and held his hand out to her as an encouragement. Clara followed but suddenly heard a strange noise and the faintest of vibrations under her feet. The ice was cracking. Her eyes went wide as she glanced down to see a fissure forming right beneath her.

"Doctor!" she called right as the ice gave way. She went in up to her neck, clinging to the edge of the ice as more pieces broke off under her weight. The Doctor fell flat and spread his weight out so as to not fall in himself and crawled towards her.

Clara's hands reached for the Doctor in a desperate panic. She had to get out quick or she would die of hypothermia. Her head came dangerously close to going under.

"Clara!" he called grabbing for her hands.

She lost her grip and slid under only to have the Doctor pull her up by her collar of her shirt. She gasped for air as her head broke the surface.

"Pull me out!" she shrieked, treading water.

"Clara, you can't get out yet." He still held her by the collar as she seemed to be sinking under again. Clara grabbed his arms, fingers twisting his jacket sleeves in desperation. "Calm down. You're ok."

It was then that she realised their surroundings had changed. They weren't at the glacier and she hadn't fallen in a frozen lake. She was in a bath in the TARDIS, fully clothed minus the shoes. It was filled with water and there were floating ice cubes which looked like they had recently been dropped in.

"Calm down," he repeated gently. "You have heatstroke and I'm trying to cool you down before your brain runs out your ears."

She relaxed somewhat, mostly from exhaustion, letting her head rest on the back of the bath. Clara released her vice-like grip on his jacket and closed her eyes for a moment. There was the sound of a wash-cloth being rung out and the Doctor pressed it to her forehead and held it there firmly.

"I thought about throwing you in the pool but I had no way of fishing you out again." His attempt at humour fell flat. Clara felt completely nauseous and the thunderous headache was back.

"I'm freezing," she said weakly as he mopped her face. "I want to get out."

The Doctor put the cloth down and pulled out his sonic screwdriver to check her temperature. It pulsed away for a few seconds before the he seemed satisfied and put it away. "Better," he announced before getting up off the stool he had been sitting on.

He pulled the plug out of the bath letting the water and desert sand escape down the plug hole. The remaining ice pooled near Clara's feet at the end of the bath, unable to get away until fully melted.

"Up you come then," he said motioning to her to get out.

Clara lay in the empty bath exhausted. When she failed to move he sighed heavily and pulled her up into a sitting position. Her clothes clung to her in a sodden mess.

She felt a towel being dropped over her shoulders and then strong arms lift her up until she was standing, albeit shakily.

"Left leg, right leg. Good girl." He manoeuvred her over the edge of the bath and dropped her down onto the stool. She shivered and held the towel around her shoulders.

"I'm supposed to be going on a date." She sat miserably, looking more like a drowned rat than the attractive young lady she started the day out as.

"He can wait," he said bluntly.

The Doctor stood behind her and undid what was left of her up-do. In an act of unusual intimacy he ran his fingers quickly through her hair to loosen it and then took a small towel and dried it off as best as he could.

Clara's head was still throbbing but the simple act of drying her hair made her feel slightly better.

"Here, put these on." He handed her a pile of clothing which looked like a pair of hot pink pyjamas. "They're a bit long for you. The previous owner was about four inches taller."

"Doctor?" she asked wondering which one of his previous companions they belonged to.

"Clara, it would be inappropriate for me to offer assistance," he explained but that wasn't what she was getting at. She was too tired and ill to be bothered asking.

"Why don't you just take me home?" she said looking up at him.

"You said you had a date. I am giving you time to recover before you go out drinking with your gentleman friend. If I take you home now you'll miss the date because you're not well enough and if I take you back earlier you might meet yourself coming backwards."

She was a little shocked by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you," she managed finally.

The Doctor gave her a little wink and exited the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Clara sat in the jump seat in the console room, looking a bit like a child playing dress up in the oversized pink pyjamas. It would have been comical had she not felt so ill.

The Doctor stood in front of her mixing some kind of drink in a glass. He finished stirring it with a teaspoon and handed it to her with a curly straw.

"Clara, I'm serious. You need to drink this," he explained. "People with heatstroke end up in hospital, forced to eat dreadful hospital food and then they get poked and prodded by strangers."

"As opposed to being poked and prodded by just one person," she complained dryly.

Clara looked down at the glass in her hand. The purple liquid still swirled slowly. She swallowed down a wave of nausea.

"I think I'm going to be sick again," she said quietly.

"Again?" he asked surprised. "When were you sick before?"

"Just now, in the bathroom," she leaned forward and put her head in her hand an an attempt to shift the nausea.

"All the more reason to get some fluids into you," he said slightly exasperated. The Doctor put his hand under hers and lifted the glass up towards her face.

"What is this anyway?" she asked sitting up straighter to get a better look at the strange liquid.

"Boots Rehydration Treatment. Blackcurrant flavour."

"You went to Boots?"

"Clara, stop stalling and drink."

She reluctantly took a sip. It wasn't that bad. She sat back in the chair.

"Yes, I went to Boots," he continued as Clara took another sip. "And I had to stand in line and listen to some old man go on and on about his haemorrhoids."

He picked up the box of medicine from the console and read the label out loud. "Active ingredients: Citric Acid Anhydrous, Glucose Monohydrate, Potassium Chloride, Sodium Chloride, Sodium Citrate Dihydrate." He glanced at Clara briefly. "Salts essentially", he explained.

The Doctor looked down at Clara who seemed completely disinterested as she sipped her drink.

He continued anyway. "One or two sachets dissolved in water after each loose bowel movement." He raised his eyebrows. "You can keep that information to yourself thanks Clara."

She drained the glass and handed it back to him.

"Oh, thank you Your Majesty," he said sarcastically and set the glass down on the console before turning back to her.

"I need to lie down," she said suddenly sliding off the chair and onto the floor.

"No, no, no." He grabbed her arm and heaved her up. "Your boudoir is over here." The Doctor directed her to the far side of the console where he had made a little bed underneath it with a pile of tartan blankets and a sheet over the side to block out some of the light. It looked rather like a cubby house.

Clara didn't argue. She crawled under the console and buried herself in the blankets. Her muscles ached fiercely she felt so weak she couldn't even bear to speak.

"Sweet dreams," The Doctor said but she was already out.

* * *

Clara woke a while later. She had no idea how long she had slept but it wasn't long enough. Her head throbbed with every heartbeat. She opened her eyes slowly and saw the silhouette of the Doctor's legs through the sheet. He shifted slightly, fiddling with a switch on the console before moving away to work on something else.

"Are you alright down there?" he asked pulling apart a tangle of wires. Perhaps the change in her breathing had alerted him to the fact that she was indeed now awake.

She didn't reply but attempted to sit up instead on one elbow. Clara immediately felt light headed.

The Doctor pulled up the sheet sending a shaft of light streaming in. She winced and covered her eyes with her arm.

"Hello Sleeping Beauty," he said with a grin.

She gave up trying to stay upright and lay back down again. Clara felt his hand go to her forehead to check her temperature.

"How are you feeling?" he said gently, pulling up her oversized sleeve to take the pulse in her wrist.

"Awful," she whispered.

"You need more fluids and sleep," he explained.

"I can't sleep," she whined. "Everything aches." Her face was now an interesting shade of red and she was a little too warm.

He dropped the sheet and disappeared for a moment before returning with a wash-cloth and another glass of purple liquid.

The Doctor sat cross legged and pressed the cloth to Clara's forehead as she lay on her back staring blankly at the underside of the console.

"I had an awful dream," she admitted. He mopped her face and stayed silent as she continued. "It was on that planet. We got eaten by the sand piranhas."

"It was just a dream," he said putting the cloth back on her forehead.

"I know," she replied weakly. "The funny thing was they were wearing pyjamas." She laughed giddily. "Piranhas in Pyjamas."

"That's enough." He put the cloth aside as it was doing a fat lot of good. "Now sit up and have a drink." She closed her eyes and tried to feign sleep. "Come on. Doctor's orders."

Clara reluctantly sat up and took the glass, drinking slowly.

"How did we get away?" she asked in between sips.

"That is a long story," he said as she leaned in eagerly to hear the tale. "A story which I will tell you later."

"Doctor, I want to know now!" she exclaimed taking one last furious sip ending in a slurp as the glass was drained.

"I don't do bedtime stories, Clara." He took the empty glass out of her hand and pressed a long boney finger into the middle of her forehead. "Sleep," he ordered. Clara's eyes rolled back into her head as she collapsed onto the pile of blankets.


	3. Chapter 3

Clara came to her senses slowly. At first she felt a cool breeze and filtered sunlight on her face. She then became aware of an odd sound; a soft rustling of leaves and nearby running water, interrupted by intermittent crunching.

She opened her eyes and found herself looking up into a forest canopy. Light filtered through the trees providing just the right amount of shade.

Clara realised she was lying on a blanket. The Doctor was reclining nearby, chewing on an apple. In between them a feast had been laid out from a large picnic basket; fruit, nuts, cheese, bread and a bottle of wine with goblets. It looked partially eaten. They had been there for some time it seemed.

She looked down and saw that she was wearing the same beautiful medieval gown she wore to their trip to meet Robin Hood.

"Oh, hello. Nice of you to join me," The Doctor said taking another bite out of the apple, crunching loudly. "You know it's incredibly rude to go to sleep in the middle of a conversation." He tossed the apple remains over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. It's just.. I'm so tired." She tried to stifle a yawn as she rolled on her side to face him. "Are we in Sherwood Forest?" she said looking around. Clara spotted the TARDIS parked not far away and a familiar stream where The Doctor had his spoon-duel with Robin Hood.

He stared back at her. "Clara, you asked me to bring you here, remember?" She didn't remember asking and nor did she remember how they got there. "Honestly, human brains are so unreliable. I don't know how you can stand it" he added.

Clara surveyed the food. She was feeling quite hungry. Her stomach growled just looking at it. "You should eat something before it all gets carried away by ants," the Doctor suggested.

She picked up a strawberry and eyed it suspiciously. It looked perfect; not one blemish. In fact everything in the picnic looked perfect. The fruit looked almost airbrushed.

"Are you going to eat that or just stare at it?" he said dryly.

She bit the strawberry in half. It was incredibly juicy and the flavour was amazing. Clara sat up and finished it off, throwing the green stem into the nearby shrubs.

She looked around, wondering if they were really alone. "Where's Robin?" she asked.

"Oh, he'll be off canoodling somewhere with his girlfriend I assume." The Doctor stood up and had a stretch. He was never still for long.

He walked over to the stream and bent to pick up some stones, throwing one in. Clara got up and followed him.

"This is nice," she said standing at the edge of the water beside him.

"What is?"

"Just relaxing," she explained. "No planet to save or anything. No problems to sort out."

He turned to face her. "I could create a problem. Make something up if you'd like."

"No, thank you." She hauled up her long dress and trotted across the bridge leaving The Doctor behind with his pile of rocks.

"And where are you going?"

"I'm going to climb that tree," she said pointing to a large oak in a nearby field.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?"

"No," she called back to him, smiling broadly.

Clara approached the old oak and looked up to see the best way to climb. She stood on a tree knot and then another until she was up on one of the low branches. She found another higher branch. It looked stable and she hauled herself up further.

She waved to The Doctor through the branches and gave him a cheery smile but slightly over balanced in the process and tipped off the branch. Clara felt the sensation of falling and then nothing.

* * *

Clara emerged from her cubby house under the console and saw The Doctor scribbling on a blackboard on the upper level.

"Sleep well?" he called.

"I did actually." Clara rubbed her eyes absently and ascended the stairs, feet bare on the metal staircase. She felt a bit wobbly and held on to the railing as she went up.

The Doctor continued writing formulas with the chalk. "Any pleasant dreams?" he asked absently.

"Yes," she said suddenly remembering. "I dreamt about Sherwood Forest." She smiled and thought about the dream a little more before remembering fully. "You were there."

"Really?" he said trying to sound surprised. He kept his back turned in an attempt to hide the slight smirk on his face. "Do you dream about me often Clara?"

She blushed scarlet. "Never. This was the first.." A sudden realisation came over her. Her eyes went wide as saucers.

"You!" She pointed at him. "You gave me that dream! You went into my head!"

He didn't deny it but he had the good sense to drop the smirk when he turned to face her.

"How dare you!" She was so furious she was shaking.

"Clara, I was trying to help," he offered.

"By putting things in my head?" She swayed slightly on her feet.

The Doctor put the chalk down and attempted to explain. "You said you had a bad dream about the sand piranhas so I thought I would give you something nice to dream about. Unless of course you'd prefer to wake up screaming and terrified."

Her eyes started to well up slightly and she stood staring at him. She felt completely violated.

"What else have you been doing in my head? Did you have a nice poke around in there?"

"Well actually, I had a bit of a look around but it was like wading through a pool of scrambled egg. I really think the heatstroke did something to your brain." He regretted the comment immediately. Clara was unwell and he was only making her more upset.

"Well.. don't you go putting things in my head again without asking." She was suddenly short of breath and she reached out to lean on something, anything. Her pulse thumped in a rapid-fire rhythm.

The Doctor kept his voice low and controlled in an attempt to calm her down. "Clara, I think you're overreacting." Second mistake.

She tried to reply but she couldn't get the words out. Her ears were ringing again and she had a strong sensation she was about to pass out. She backed away from him.

"Clara, sit down before you fall down." He took a step towards her, almost pleading.

Clara's knees buckled and The Doctor caught her under the arms as she fell forward. Her body went limp, head resting on his chest as he held her up.

The Doctor hauled her unconscious form to a nearby chair and flopped her down into it. "Honestly Clara. I have no idea what to do with you."


	4. Chapter 4

Clara felt herself being carried in a pile of blankets, her face resting on a masculine chest. The Doctor was moving slowly and carefully so as not to jolt her, turning sideways as he navigated a door. Another turn and she felt herself being lowered onto a bed.

Her head came to rest on a familiar pile of cushions and she felt the duvet being peeled back from under her. He tucked her in snugly and then gently brushed the hair out of her face before placing a hand on her cheek, perhaps to check her temperature. She leaned into his touch and rolled to face him.

The hand was quickly removed from her cheek. "Clara?"

".. Yes," she managed through the fog of semi-consciousness.

Clara felt the bed dip as The Doctor sat down on the edge. "I brought you home. Thought you might be more comfortable."

There was a long pause as she struggled to get her brain into gear to reply. She squinted trying to remember what had just happened and looked up at him. "Did I..?"

"You fainted. Fortunately I caught you before you cracked your head open on the floor. It's becoming quite a habit of yours, this collapsing business."

"I'm sorry," she said closing her eyes, slightly embarrassed as she remembered her earlier outburst.

"Don't be sorry." She felt his hand give her an affectionate pat on the rump as he got up.

"You still haven't told me how we got away on that planet." Despite her eyes being closed she still managed to pin him to the spot where he stood.

He shifted his weight, a sign of his discomfort at the thought of story-telling. "Nothing to it. After you collapsed I just pulled the stake out of the ground."

"You pulled the stake out of the ground?" she looked up disbelievingly.

"It was a bit lose," he admitted.

"And then?"

"And then.. the chains came off. I took you back to the TARDIS and threw you in a cold bath."

"What about the sand piranhas?"

"Oh, we made it back before feeding time."

There were no more questions from Clara so the The Doctor turned and left the room. She dozed lightly, hearing the odd clank of pots and pans and dishes being moved around in the kitchen.

* * *

A short time later, Clara sat on her bed propped up by a mountain of cushions. The Doctor was sitting at the dresser facing her. The TARDIS sat snugly in the corner, tall and ominous.

The Doctor's apology came in the form of egg on toast. Clara tucked in enthusiastically but she was still sore about him going into her mind uninvited.

"Are you still cross with me?" he asked, idly chewing on a fingernail, almost nervously.

"Yes," she answered without looking up. "But thank you for breakfast."

"Well, technically it's not breakfast, it's dinner."

"What is the time anyway?" she said taking a bite from a piece of buttered toast.

"6:37PM local time."

Her eyes went wide. "6:37!" She put her knife and fork down and pushed the plate off her lap. "I'm supposed to be on a date at 7!"

Clara leapt off the bed, frantic. "Get out! I have to get dressed!" she said trying to shoo him out. He didn't move.

"You might want to have a wash, Clara," he suggested.

"Are you saying I smell?"

"No.. I'm merely suggesting that you might have the aroma of a person who has recently been quite unwell."

She gave him a furious look before rushing into the bathroom. Clara slammed the door. He was right; she did need to shower. Clara peeled off the pink pyjamas and hopped under the stream of hot water.

* * *

Back in the bedroom The Doctor got up, opened Clara's wardrobe and started pulling items off the rack and throwing them onto the bed.

Clara eventually returned from the bathroom, freshly showered and wearing a bathrobe. Her hair was still wet and hung limply around her face.

"What are you doing?" she asked looking at the pile of clothes on her bed.

"I'm helping you choose something to wear." He held up a red dress he'd never seen before. "This is nice! Is it new?"

She snatched it from him and discarded it to the pile with the other clothes.

Clara had a sudden realisation. "Oh no. I have to eat another dinner."

"Well you'd better wear something with an elasticised waist then," he teased.

"I don't wear things with elasticised waists," she hissed grabbing a pair of black pants and a yellow shirt from the cupboard before pushing The Doctor back into the TARDIS and closing the door on him.

* * *

Clara rushed into the bar. "Hiya. Sorry I'm late."

Danny greeted her with a kiss. "You're not but you're brown. You're very brown. You weren't that brown this morning."

Clara's eyes went wide and she tried to quickly think up an excuse for her new skin tone. "Sunbed," she said fanning her face.


End file.
